


And Nothing But the Truth

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Series: Voir Dire [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Jury Duty, Lawyers, M/M, Suit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Real jury duty is nothing like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Nothing But the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Written as one of two fics dealing with "Sharp Dressed Men." Apparently I have a suit-kink. Simpler and shorter of the two, and I'm fairly sure there's plenty of actual porn with this same plot. In fact this is pretty much boy-meet-boy porn, and hey, what's better? Also, jury duty was nothing like this.

“State your name for the record.”

God, he hates jury duty. Of course, it's his first time, but he can tell it’s going to _suck_.

“Jensen Ackles.”

“And what is your occupation, Mr. Ackles?”

Jensen wonders if all prosecutors talk down to other people. At least, he thinks that’s the prosecutor – he remembers a _Law & Order_ episode where someone made a fuss about the prosecution sitting closer to the jury box.

“I’m a physical therapist, ma’am.” He goes for ‘sweet Texan boy’ but it’s lost on the butch attorney, her scowl making it clear she’s not one to be charmed.

“How long have you lived in the San Antonio area?”

“Just a few months.”

“How familiar are you with the circumstances surrounding this trial?”

Jensen’s not even sure he knows what the trial's about, much less details from the media.

“Very little, I’d imagine. I work almost sixty hours a week, doesn’t leave me much time to watch the news.”

“Have you ever invested money with the McKenna Firm?” The prosecutor is plowing through questions from her paperwork, barely looking up at Jensen on the stand.

“No ma’am,” he figures being polite really can’t hurt.

“We’ll accept this witness,” he hears, and starts getting pissed off. He’ll lose countless hours of patient time if he’s on a jury, especially since this doesn’t seem to be a minor case. Jensen assumes he’s finished when the prosecutor sits and he's moving to get up when the judge’s voice calls across the courtroom.

“Mr. Padalecki, do you have any questions for this juror?”

And _holy shit_ , how Jensen could have missed the giant currently unfolding himself from his chair at the defense table, he’s not sure. Over six feet of _gorgeous_ stands up, crisp dark suit tailored perfectly to his large frame and wild brown hair tamed back from his tanned face.

“Mr. Ackles?”

_Fuck_ , did someone ask him a question?

“Sorry?”

The smirk on the his fantasy's face is worth the embarrassment Jensen’s absolutely feeling. He sees _dimples_ , for Christ’s sake.

“I asked if you’ve read much about the Corey Abrams murder investigation. Perhaps in magazines, the internet, or newspapers?”

_Oh_. Jensen suddenly realizes exactly which trial he’s being considered for. ‘McKenna’ didn’t ring any bells, but ‘Abrams’ certainly does. Jury duty can apparently get worse.

“Actually, I have,” the prosecutor glances up and Jensen feels like he’s been caught lying. How serious is perjury, again? “The other name wasn’t familiar, sorry, but I try to read the paper every day.”

“I’m sure you’re not alone in that regard. Is that the extent of your knowledge, then?” The lawyer’s eyes are locked on Jensen’s, and he’s not sure he could ever lie under the pressure of that gaze.

“I think so, yes. Sir,” he adds quickly, tries to make it sound a little playful because hell, he’s not going to pass up the chance to flirt with someone that attractive. It might even pay off. Mr. Pada _whatever_ is still staring at him, appraising. If Jensen wasn’t stuck behind the witness box, he’s pretty sure he’d be getting the full-body once over. And _loving_ it.

“Mr. Padalecki,” the judge starts after a moment of quiet. “Did you have any further questions or do you accept the juror?”

“Just one more question, your honor,” the sharply dressed man leans against the defense table. “Mr. Ackles, are you gay?”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“Relevance, your honor?” the prosecutor jumps in.

“It’s a valid question,” Mr. Hot Ass Attorney fires back. “My client makes no secret about his conservative, and often homophobic, views. It will no doubt come up during the trial and I don’t want any prejudiced jurors.”

Jensen’s silent, a little shocked, not to mention disappointed. Surely Hot Ass wouldn’t be defending a bigot if he was gay, too. But he could have _sworn_ …

“Answer the question, Mr. Ackles,” Jensen figures he ought to start paying attention, stop letting conversations take place around him while he fantasizes. 

“I suppose Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell doesn’t apply here, huh?” He tries to joke. Probably not the best idea – all he gets is a blank look from the prosecutor and judge, but _thank God_ , the lawyer trying his damnedest not to smile, Jensen can tell.

He definitely _wins_.

“Mr. Ackles,” the judge goads.

“Yes, I am gay, since it seems to matter.”

And there's no way in hell Jensen misreads the satisfied grin that flashes across his inquisitor's face in a split second, quickly hidden from the judge and prosecutor.

"Then I object to this juror." Hearing that, Jensen's almost offended. _Almost_. He's not insane.

"Objections are noted, counselor," the judge starts, "and if there are no further questions, we'll recess until one o'clock."

Both laywers sit down at their tables and Jensen feels awkward.

"You're dismissed, thank you Mr. Ackles," the judge motions him away and, summarily dismissed, he stands and walks out of the courtroom. He's no slouch when it comes to confidence, but Jensen vetoes his libido's suggestion of talking to the gargantuan attorney. No matter what _Boston Legal_ gets away with, soliciting sex from a lawyer in a courtroom, has got to be contempt. Or immoral. Or something, he doesn't care. It's a bad idea. Television does not equal reality, sadly.

Doesn't change the fact that his brain's currently telling his dick all about Mr. Padalecki, sending blood rushing down while providing a stream of mental pictures involving oak benches, ties and ripped shirts, and the judge's gavel. He's _fucked_ , and definitely can't leave the building yet. He detours into the men's room, a little too opulent for a freakin' bathroom; he really needs to write his representative concerning appropriation of tax dollars.

Washing his hands, Jensen tries to talk his dick out of hardness. He's _not_ getting off in a public bathroom.

Well, he amends as his Hot Ass Attorney walks into the room, locking the door behind him, he won't be getting off _by himself_.

"Can I help you?" _Lame_ , Jensen. _Lame_.

But maybe this guy likes lame, as less than thirty seconds later, Jensen's pressed up against the marble countertop, miles of gorgeous attorney pressed against his back.

"I think you owe me for getting you out of jury duty," supple lips growl into his ear.

"Jensen, _shit_. My name's Jensen."

His fantasy turned reality laughs. "Jared. And don't worry, I know _all_ about you, remember?"

"Huh?" His brain's been benched since the lawyer's, _Jared's_ , hands bent him forward.

"The witness stand is better than a first date, _Jensen_ ," Jared's licking whatever skin he can reach along Jensen's neck. "Thirty-three years old, physical therapist, living alone, workaholic, and," he punctuates with a thrust of his hips, " _definitely gay_."

Hazel eyes lock on his in the mirror; from the flush on Jared's face and the way his hands won't stop fondling Jensen, he knows they're equally turned on. Awesome.

"So I owe you..." Jensen's rocking backwards into Jared's groin, can feel the delicious hardness of the other man's dick.

"You didn't want to sit for this trial, I could tell. Figured I'd save you the trouble, make a fuss and get you rejected."

"Yeah?" Jensen sees his chance to play. Too many men have called him a tease - he knows he's damn good at it. "I think you did it for yourself. Couldn't stand to have my pretty ass in court every day, knowing you couldn't touch me."

Clearly, games are the way to go. Jared growls again - and _fuck_ , that's hot - undoing Jensen's pants and yanking them to the floor. One large hand fumbles in his own pocket while the other spans Jensen's warm stomach, holding them together.

"Bet you were thinking about it, though," he keeps going, though speech gets difficult when Jared's palm drops to his dick. "Maybe bending me over that stand, blowing me right there. _God_ , I bet you wanted my dick in your throat, didn't want to wait to get me alone."

"You going to keep talking, or are you gonna let me fuck you?"

Jensen's grin disappears when slick fingers move inside him and sharp teeth latch onto his jugular.

"Oh _shit_ , fuck me."

"Gladly," Jared breathes, working him open and jacking his cock at the same time. Jensen's mind quickly shatters. He barely hears the jangle of Jared's belt being undone and the snap of a condom, but he _can't_ miss the feel of what seems to be the _perfect_ cock pushing into him. Almost makes him wish he could turn to see it, but Jared's got him in a firm grip - nothing to complain about. 

Smooth hardness and short thrusts point to the obvious fact that Jared is no novice, fucking Jensen like he needs it - needs it to be good for _both of them_ \- something Jensen's not used to. It's expert, precise. Jared knows exactly how far to push, when to stop, and when to let loose. His hand strokes Jensen's cock in rhythm, a perfect balance.

It's his lucky fucking day. Jared's forceful but not rough, nose pressed against Jensen's shoulder blade while he rides Jensen's ass. He can't stand guys who make up for shitty technique with too much power. But this, _damn_ , is pretty close to phenomenal.

There are no words, a contrast to a few minutes ago, and Jensen imagines they're both too lost in sensation, the feel of each other, to talk. But there's plenty of panting and groaning from Jensen, bitten-off curses and moans from Jared, that it's far from quiet. He'd be worried about someone overhearing, but _hello_ , sex.

Fingers tighten on his flesh, the grip on Jensen's cock is tighter, intense. Jared's close, and Jensen won't be far behind. He does his best to rock back, make it better, but Jared's got it all covered. His final thrusts and pulls send Jensen over the edge, spilling across the counter and Jared's hand. Riding the last spasms, he feels Jared coming, drawing out the sensation.

"God, Jensen," he finally hears as their bodies stop shuddering. Jensen wants to say 'ditto', but can't even manage that.

It's a sticky mess when they pull apart, but Jared's nice enough to grab several thick paper towels, wiping them both off after he ditches the condom. Jensen turns and watches him, pulling up his own pants and straightening his shirt.

"Why the fuck are you defending that guy if you know he's an asshole?" Jensen can't help his mouth and its awkward timing, but he's genuinely curious.

"Because I'm an _amazing_ lawyer," Jared grins, fixing his tie. "And he doesn't give a shit. He'll pay me _very_ well as long as I get him acquited."

"So sure you will?"

"I'm good at getting people off."

Okay, Jensen has to groan at that. Apparently hot ass lawyers can be lame, too. It looks like Jared realizes it, big smile gracing his features. And if Jensen thought Jared was hot while fucking him, it was _nothing_ compared to this picture.

"Dirty lawyer."

He stares at Jared for a moment before they crack up. When Jared calms down, he runs a hand through his hair, slicking it back into place, and glances at the mirror, perfecting his pre-tryst appearance. It's strange, but the other man almost looks nervous when he turns around, not something Jensen, in his limited experience, could imagine him being.

"I have to get back to court."

Jensen's not sure where they're heading, but he obviously has a preference. "Well, um. Good luck, you know, with the case. Am I allowed to say that?"

"Yeah," Jared chuckles, a sweet sound after the throaty growls of earlier. "It's fine. And, thanks."

"You got me off jury duty, so thank _you_."

"Anytime," his voice is quieter when he reaches into his suit jacket, pulling out a thin, white card. Suddenly it strikes Jensen. For all of the confidence and cool Jared exudes, maybe _this_ is what he's a novice at. Just the thought makes Jensen smile. He takes the card when it's handed over, flipping it to see a hand-scrawled number on the back.

"You didn't write this just now."

"No, after you stepped down and left the courtroom."

Jensen's not going to stop grinning. Ever. Delivering bad news to his clients will be awkward from now on.

"I really have to go," Jared interrupts his thoughts, moving to the door and unlocking it. "But, listen. I'd like to see you...you know, sometime."

"Don't worry," Jensen assures. He waves the card between them. "I definitely know what to do with this."

Jared returns the bright smile, those dimples making another grand entrance, then walks out. Jensen tucks the card in his pocket, knows for certain he won't even bother waiting to call. Hell, he hasn't even seen _skin_ yet, so there's no way he'll pass up someone like Jared.

He takes it back. Jury duty _rocks_.

 

FIN


End file.
